A Rare Breed Read Online Free
Author: Mary Tate Engels
Brit yelled again and lunged forward, latching onto Rudi's giant arm, screaming for him to stop. She felt him try to shake her free, felt her whole body tremble as he used his roaring strength to loosen her grip and free himself from her.
She was whipped around like a rag doll and then a different male voice bellowed, "Hey, stop! Stop that!" But there was no stopping. Rudi was a raging bull and continued trying to box poor Frank, who lay pressed to the ground. Brit held onto his arm, mak ing the fight impossible and in furiating Rudi further. Suddenly, there was a loud smack, a low groan, and Rudi tumbled backward. Brit, still attached to his arm, went with him.
Briefly stunned by the impact, Brit finally managed to sit up and prop herself on Rudi's huge form, which lay still beside her. Yes, there he was. She hadn't imagined another man. There actually was someone who had interfered with the fight. He had long dark hair and intense dark eyes and he hovered close to her face.
"You all right?" His voice rumbled low in his throat as his hands framed her shoulders and held her firmly for a moment.
"I'm fine," she lied. Brit thought she must be dreaming that a handsome stranger with dark hair to his shoulders appeared out of nowhere.
As soon as she claimed she was all right, he moved and she could hear him talking to Frank. Yolanda sat close, cradling her husband's massive head in her lap, murmuring, "Oh, Rudi-T udi baby, speak to me. Are you all right? Oh, come on, baby . . ." Gone was the quarrelsome attitude that had kept them bickering for the whole trip. Now she was full of smothering affection.
Brit pushed herself to her feet, trying to put things into perspective. Maybe she had fallen asleep on the flight and would wake up any minute and find herself safe and sound and nearing L.A.X.
"You sure you're all right, miss?" A hand touched her shoulder. "You look a little dazed."
Brit lifted her face and brushed her blond hair back. She stared at the most handsome man she could ever imagine in her wildest dream. "Who are you?"
"Jake Landry. I was working about half a mile from here when I heard the crash."
Yes, she thought. She was dreaming. Dreaming about her great-grandmother Bonnie's story.
There stood a tall Indian with dark hair to his shoulders and dressed only in a breechcloth. He was certainly magnificent .
The difference was that this man named Jake wore a faded chambray shirt and frayed Levi's and looked quite contemporary. His shiny jet hair was short on the sides and slightly longer in back. He had the high cheekbones and chiseled features of a Native American. And he was absolutely magnificent.
"Did you say you work near here?" A flood of hope swept over Brit. Perhaps they were near some habitation, more people, and a way out. They could be rescued soon!
"I'm digging over there—" He gestured behind them.
"Digging? For gold?" Her eyes grew larger.
"Hardly." He chuckled and shook his head. The dark straight hair moved like silk tassels around his face. "Digging a ruin."
"A what?"
"It's an Indian ruin or cliff dwelling where Indians lived nearly a thousand years ago. There are several sites hidden in the canyon walls that are full of antique treasures. I'm documenting them."
"You mean like . . . archeology?" Brit's voice fell along with her hopes. This man wasn't here to rescue them. He had other interests.
"Exactly like archeology." His dark eyes gleamed when he mentioned eight-hundred-year- old pots and baskets no one had touched for hundreds of years.
Rudi groaned and the stranger named Jake Landry started toward him. Brit quickly stepped forward. "Tell me, Jake. Are you . . . alone. Or is there a team of you down here working?"
"No team. I'm alone." He pulled a large handkerchief from his pocket and tucked it into her hand. "If there's any ice in that cooler, put a piece in here for that one." He nodded toward Frank. "He's going to have a doozie of a shiner."
Brit felt a surge of energy as
She was whipped around like a rag doll and then a different male voice bellowed, "Hey, stop! Stop that!" But there was no stopping. Rudi was a raging bull and continued trying to box poor Frank, who lay pressed to the ground. Brit held onto his arm, mak ing the fight impossible and in furiating Rudi further. Suddenly, there was a loud smack, a low groan, and Rudi tumbled backward. Brit, still attached to his arm, went with him.
Briefly stunned by the impact, Brit finally managed to sit up and prop herself on Rudi's huge form, which lay still beside her. Yes, there he was. She hadn't imagined another man. There actually was someone who had interfered with the fight. He had long dark hair and intense dark eyes and he hovered close to her face.
"You all right?" His voice rumbled low in his throat as his hands framed her shoulders and held her firmly for a moment.
"I'm fine," she lied. Brit thought she must be dreaming that a handsome stranger with dark hair to his shoulders appeared out of nowhere.
As soon as she claimed she was all right, he moved and she could hear him talking to Frank. Yolanda sat close, cradling her husband's massive head in her lap, murmuring, "Oh, Rudi-T udi baby, speak to me. Are you all right? Oh, come on, baby . . ." Gone was the quarrelsome attitude that had kept them bickering for the whole trip. Now she was full of smothering affection.
Brit pushed herself to her feet, trying to put things into perspective. Maybe she had fallen asleep on the flight and would wake up any minute and find herself safe and sound and nearing L.A.X.
"You sure you're all right, miss?" A hand touched her shoulder. "You look a little dazed."
Brit lifted her face and brushed her blond hair back. She stared at the most handsome man she could ever imagine in her wildest dream. "Who are you?"
"Jake Landry. I was working about half a mile from here when I heard the crash."
Yes, she thought. She was dreaming. Dreaming about her great-grandmother Bonnie's story.
There stood a tall Indian with dark hair to his shoulders and dressed only in a breechcloth. He was certainly magnificent .
The difference was that this man named Jake wore a faded chambray shirt and frayed Levi's and looked quite contemporary. His shiny jet hair was short on the sides and slightly longer in back. He had the high cheekbones and chiseled features of a Native American. And he was absolutely magnificent.
"Did you say you work near here?" A flood of hope swept over Brit. Perhaps they were near some habitation, more people, and a way out. They could be rescued soon!
"I'm digging over there—" He gestured behind them.
"Digging? For gold?" Her eyes grew larger.
"Hardly." He chuckled and shook his head. The dark straight hair moved like silk tassels around his face. "Digging a ruin."
"A what?"
"It's an Indian ruin or cliff dwelling where Indians lived nearly a thousand years ago. There are several sites hidden in the canyon walls that are full of antique treasures. I'm documenting them."
"You mean like . . . archeology?" Brit's voice fell along with her hopes. This man wasn't here to rescue them. He had other interests.
"Exactly like archeology." His dark eyes gleamed when he mentioned eight-hundred-year- old pots and baskets no one had touched for hundreds of years.
Rudi groaned and the stranger named Jake Landry started toward him. Brit quickly stepped forward. "Tell me, Jake. Are you . . . alone. Or is there a team of you down here working?"
"No team. I'm alone." He pulled a large handkerchief from his pocket and tucked it into her hand. "If there's any ice in that cooler, put a piece in here for that one." He nodded toward Frank. "He's going to have a doozie of a shiner."
Brit felt a surge of energy as
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